Gone Wrong
by Danny vs A Month
Summary: A few pirates, a prototype ship to steal back, and five universally famous ex-criminals and bounty hunters to track it down. What's the worst that could happen?


I do not own Guardians of the Galaxy or any of the characters.

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Gone Wrong

Just a few pirates, they said. Nothing to worry about, they said. Done by lunch, they said. Now Peter Quill and his entire team were hating themselves for agreeing with so little information. Most were safe. Rocket, Groot, and Drax had made it back to the ship already. However, now they were unable to leave as both Gamora and Peter were unable to reach the ship.

"You know, when they said a couple pirates, I didn't spect that to be code for a couple thousand!" Peter shouted over the sounds of gunfire and explosions.

True enough, as they had been tasked with stealing a prototype ship back from pirates, only to find themselves facing an entire army, including heavy plasma canons. He and Gamora were crouching behind a small piece of wall remaining from a bombed-out building as the heavy plasma canons blasted everything around them into ruin.

"There is nothing we can do about it now," Gamora said, as calm as though she were sitting aboard the Milano.

"I'll show ya what we c'n do," Peter said, raising his blaster and moving to stand only for Gamora to grab his arm, stopping him.

"Peter Quill, if you stand, they will shoot you on sight, and then they will know where to bomb," Gamora said. "All we can do is wait this out."

As the next canon blast hit, Peter flinched, imperceptibly to the naked eye, but Gamora felt the muscles in his arm jerk as his hand clenched, his finger thankfully not being on his trigger. He slowly nodded and put the pistol away just in tim for a blast to hit somewhere short of the wall, Peter flinching badly this time. Gamora slipped her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly and giving him a sympathetic look, something he didn't see often.

"That scared are..." Peter trailed off as Gamora's look turned stern, and he sighed. "Thank you."

She nodded just as a blast hit nearby and he jumped, clamping his teeth to keep quiet. Gamora's free hand reached up, pulling his forehead to hers, Gamora closing her eyes as she remained there. A strange sort of calm fell over Peter, the blasts suddenly seeming further away, less threatening. Less important. He took a steadying breath, the corners of his mouth twitching as he smelled her cherry blossom scented shampoo and body wash. It was almost comical that the single deadliest woman in the galaxy would smell so sweet. Not that he would ever say anything. All too soon Gamora pulled away and Peter realized the blasts had stopped. He pulled out a mirror, carefully checking around their cover, seeing the pirates were starting to close in. The canons were all glowing red and smoking, meaning that they had fully overheated, leaving them useless for three minutes, and all of the pirate snipers were making their way down the steep embankment they were on, giving them a ghost of a chance to flee. If they didn't, they'd be fighting for their lives in close quarters. Probably a better idea than a ranged fight for Gamora, but suicide for Peter. He didn't have augmentations, and the small amount of martial arts he had managed to learn from Gamora in between trips to the hospital was nowhere near enough.

"We could run for it," Peter reported. "Their canons have overheated and th' snipers are movin'."

Gamora nodded and the two stood, taking off in random and rapid zig zag paths away from the pirates, blaster fire lighting up the ground around them almost instantly. Soon, sniper shots were hitting near them as well. Panic began to fill Peter. The treeline they were running for was a long ways off. A shot grazed his shoulder and he shouted in surprise and pain, holding a hand over it before slipping, crashing down and rolling under the broken top of an arch, shots blasting the top of it instantly. Peter swore, checking his shoulder before looking at the ground on the far side of the arch, where clouds of dirt were shooting into the air instantly. He looked up at the arch as the top began to lighten. The blasts would be through any second.

Then, suddenly, the blasts stopped. Peter's eyes widened. Gamora. They were all shooting at Gamora. He wormed his way out, standing and looking around. Gamora was crouching behind a low stone wall, blasts chipping away at the edges of it rapidly. Peter drew his blaster, firing randomly at the pirates. A sniper went down. Peter grinned at his luck before turning and sprinting away, all of the blasts aimed at him again, allowing Gamora to get moving before the blasts split between the two again. This time, however, Peter's luck held, and they reached the treeline, most of the shots being blocked by the trees. The bad news was, the canons were back. Blasts began to explode around them, the pair sprinting as fast as they could and swerving to avoid the explosions. For a bit, it was going well. Until a lucky shot sent Peter sailing through the air into a tree. He dropped to the ground, groaning, and Gamora sprinted over, kneeling beside him.

"I'm fine," Peter said, pushing himself up. "Gotta run."

Gamora nodded, taking his right arm over her shoulder and running again. Finally, they stopped as they reached the top of the bowl where the Milano was parked, engines running and Drax and Groot waiting at the foot of the ramp. Before they could start down, however, Gamora dove to the ground with Peter as a tree off to the side exploded. Then, she shoved Peter, making him roll away from her as she rolled the other way and a second shot hit the ground between them. Then, Gamora was on her feet, drawing a pair of knives as a single pirate walked toward her, holding her at gunpoint. Peter had lost his blaster when he had tripped under the arch, so he couldn't shoot the pirate, but that wasn't what was holding his attention. It was the hole in the ground. The hole with spiral marking along the inside of it and burning around the outside. EMP rounds. If Gamora was hit with that, her augmentations would fail. She might die from a shot just about anywhere. Peter stood, pulling out his walkman, as the pirate raised his blaster. Gamora took a step forward but Peter shoved her roughly out of the way, hurling the walkman at the pirate, just before a shot blasted through his side, just barely below his ribcage, missing his diaphragm by maybe a centimeter.

Peter opened his eyes a moment later and stared up at the oddest sky he had ever seen. It was completely white with spot of alternating color, and some that kind of looked like stars, floating around and around. He couldn't feel his body, and trying to move made him feel tired, weak, heavy. His fingers felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Then, the sky began to change. Parts of it turned blue. Others turned grey, red, Green, even brown. Forget the other sky being odd, this one was just confusing. He could hear something, a voice, he thought. Maybe. Something was itching at his mind. Something he recognized. He couldn't place it though. His brain wasn't responding enough. And he was so tired. And uncomfortable. His side felt weird. Not uncomfortable, that wasn't quite right. What was it? Itchy? No. Though that felt a little closer. He felt like he should yawn but couldn't. What had he been thinking about?

Someone was talking. He was pretty sure of that. What were they saying though? Their words were garbled. Distorted. Kind of like if his ears were underwater. He like the water. Maybe he should take a vacation to the beach. His friends would like that. What were their names again? Ricky? No. Grape? No. Packs? No. What had he been thinking about? He wished he could remember. His throat felt dry. Water would be nice. Water. Oh, right. The beach. He would like to go there. Maybe if he asked his father they could go.

"We're losing him!" a voice said urgently, their voice forcing its way through the haze, demanding he comprehend it.

Losing who? Him? Who's him? Peter? Surely not. He was fine. He was just a little tired. Had he stayed up too late again? Hopefully it was Friday or Saturday. He would get in trouble if he fell asleep in class again. What school did he go to again? Something was nagging at his head about the voice. What had they said? Something about looking for something? Not quite. Losing something? That was it. They were losing him. For a reason Peter couldn't explain, a strange emptiness filled his chest. Sadness? No. Fear? Yes. That was it. The thought of whoever was speaking losing whoever they were looking for scared him. But why? Peter blinked, realizing his eyes were already closed. When had he closed his eyes? He opened them, seeing something green above him. It looked familiar. A face. Whose? His father? Definitely not. One of his friends from school? No. His mother? He didn't think so. Who was it then? Their face was really shiny, too. Only a little of it. Two lines down their cheeks. Were they wearing some weird kind of jewelry? No. Something cold and wet hit his left arm. Water. He liked the water. It was calming. His vision began to fade again. So tired. So itchy. His entire side itched. No, not itched. Hurt? Yes, that was it. His side hurt. Not bad, just enough to annoy him, though he thought he could still go to sleep if he closed his eyes again.

He didn't want to sleep, though. He really didn't want to. He wasn't sure why. Sleeping was so much fun. When he slept he could do whatever he wanted in his dreams. Something was telling him not to though. He wanted to yawn again. No, not yawn. It felt different. More uncomfortable. Like there was something in his throat. He wanted to see his side. Why did it hurt? He tried to lift his head but it was so heavy, and he felt so dizzy. He managed to get his right arm to move, moving it to his side then holding it up. It was red. Why was it red? Did someone spill paint? Suddenly, there was a green hand wrapped around his red one. Green and red. Was it christmas? He liked christmas. He always got candy, and he always liked getting presents. He wondered if his friends had ever had christmas. He doubted it. None seemed like the type.

So tired. He couldn't hold his hand up any longer. It went limp and the green hand tightened around it, holding it in place as a sound reached his ears. A laugh? No. Cough? Sneeze? Hiccup? No. Gasp? Closer but no. His vision sharpened a little more, Peter being able to pick out the woman's hair. She was really attractive. Did he know her from somewhere? She looked familiar. She was talking. He could only barely hear her. Her voice was muffled. He tried to focus on her voice. Hearing it seemed to make everything a little more tolerable.

"...foolish, selfish, unthinking bastard!" she was saying, although she didn't sound quite right.

What was Gamora mad about now? Gamora. Oh yeah. That's who she was. Why was she mad? Although, she didn't really sound mad.

"Don't you dare!" Gamora was saying. "You're not allowed! You have no right!"

What couldn't he do? He wasn't doing anything. Just laying there. Was that it? Well, better to do what she wanted than to risk her getting mad. He tried to sit up but his vision flared white and the spots returned, his senses fleeing. The spots began to move, swirling around and around in his vision. It was funny to watch. Like fireflies. When was the last time he had seen fireflies? He couldn't even remember. Had Gamora ever seen fireflies? Could she see these ones? They were really pretty. The spots began to fade, the white darkening to black and his senses began to return. He could hear something. What was it? He couldn't focus on it. His mind was moving slowly again.

"Hold him down!" a voice ordered.

Hold who down? Not Peter. Peter was too heavy. He couldn't move if he had wanted to.

"Get him in there now!" a voice said. "He doesn't have much time."

Who doesn't have much time? Peter? Was he late for something? He didn't think so. What was he late for? School?

"It's open again!" a voice said.

What's open? The bar? The toy store? The candy shop? He liked candy. Maybe he could stop by after he took a short nap. He was so tired. And maybe his friends wanted some candy. Everyone liked candy. Who were his friends again? He couldn't quite recall their faces, or their names. There were five, he thought. No, four? He remembered an animal. Maybe they had a pet. There was a plant too. Did they have a tree they played on? No, he didn't think so. He was so tired. Maybe he would remember after he went to sleep.

"Clear!" someone shouted.

What was clear? Were they driving somewhere? Were they talking about the sky? His chest felt tight for a moment, before the feeling went away. What was that? He had no idea.

"Again!" someone said.

Do what again? What were they doing?

"Clear!"

The sky? He liked the sky better with a couple of clouds. It was prettier that way. Fireflies were pretty. Especially with their light reflecting on the water. He liked water. He liked to swim. He liked the beach. There had been a really pretty one near his house. He could almost see it now, spreading out before him. His chest felt tight, and he thought he could hear a rumble. Thunder? Didn't they say the sky was clear? He liked clear skies. Clear skies meant plenty of sun. He liked tanning on the beach. He missed the one near his home. He used to watch ships sailing around in it. He had always wanted to be on one. He could almost picture one at the shore, an old type, one with big sails. There would be a ramp on the ground in front of him, and a crew waiting to ferry him away. Where was he going?

"Clear!" a voice said, sounding do far away.

Thunder rumbled again. He didn't like thunder. Thunder meant rain. Rain meant that he couldn't go to the beach. So there wouldn't be a ship. But it would be really fun to ride one.

"Clear!"

His chest felt tight. Why did it keep doing that? It was really uncomfortable. And it was making it hard to see his imaginary boat and beach. He missed seeing the beach. It had been peaceful there. His side had stopped feeling weird there. And he couldn't feel his chest tightening. His side was becoming annoying now. It wasn't feeling weird anymore. It was something else. Something more bothersome. Hurt? Yeah, that was it. His side hurt. And he could hear something. A voice. They weren't talking, he didn't think. It was a really weird language if they were. He could swear he knew the voice. He cracked his eyes open, squinting against the light coming through the window. The room he was in was dark. Why was it dark. He felt the cobwebs being lifted from his mind as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. His mind began to try to catch up to what had been happening to him. He was tired. So tired. But he felt like he had been asleep already. He had had a really weird dream. Something about a ship and a beach and a bunch of people wearing white robes. He turned his head, ever-so-slightly downward and stared at the green face with puffy swollen eyes, tears soaking the odd clothes he had somehow been changed into, some thin shirt with no back from the feel of it. The person was crying. Who was she? She looked familiar. His mind still wasn't working very well, he guessed. Why was she crying? Why did his side hurt? He looked around the room. A man made of wood, a large grey muscular man with red markings, and a raccoon were all sitting in chairs around the room, sleeping. But not the green girl. She was still crying on his arm. He felt the need to comfort her, so he lifted his right hand, reaching over and trying to pull her hair out of her face. Unfortunately, it didn't work because his arm gave out, dropping lightly onto her head, just enough to startle her.

She looked up at him, eyes wide at seeing he was awake. He stared at her. The skin around her eyes was a darker green than the rest, and her eyes were bloodshot. There were tears all down her face, but he knew her. He knew he did. What was the name? Glamour? Gabby?

"Peter?" she asked, voice hoarse from sobbing.

Gamora. That was it.

"Hey," he managed to say, his voice sounding even worse than hers. "Why are you crying?"

Speaking was hard. He could barely make a sound, and it hurt. Gamora's face contorted into a look of confusion and worry. Peter looked down at his side as it throbbed, lifting the blanket and his weird shirt, seeing bandages. Memories began to return to him. He had been shot. Why had he been shot? Was he in a fight? He looked back up at Gamora and remembered. They had been on a mission. They had had to flee and he had pushed her out of the way of an EMP bullet. He had been shot by it instead. But why was she crying? He had never seen her showing emotion before.

"We got away?" he asked after a minute.

Gamora nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Drax took out the pirate after he shot you, and Rocket patched you up as best he could then flew us here."

"How bad?" Peter asked.

"You nearly died," Rocket said, walking over to the bed. "With some...persuasion, by our friendly neighborhood ex-assassin, they paddled you eleven times, rather than let you go. But it worked. You're alive now. It was close though. You were passing over for sure."

"Oh," Peter said. "Guess I should thank you both then."

"Not me," Rocket said. "I just slapped a bandaid on and took you to the hospital. Gamora's the one that made the doctor's keep trying to save you even after you had a zero percent chance of survival. She hasn't left your side since we got here."

"How long have I been out?" Peter asked.

"Two weeks," Rocket said. "Long enough that one doctor thought it was a good idea to suggest that you wouldn't wake up. Gamora straightened him out."

Peter grinned internally. If she was the one to straighten the doctor out, he would hate to be the doctor. Not that being himself was much better right now. Peter looked up as Rocket moved, he and Groot pushing Drax toward the door.

"Well, we're going to grab some food, and some water for you," Rocket said. "See you in a bit."

Peter blinked, then turned, staring at Gamora.

"Why?" Gamora asked, sounding to be on the verge of tears again. "Why would you do something so foolish, unnecessary, pointless, and reckless?"

She didn't sound angry, though she seemed to be trying to.

"You were in danger," Peter said before he could stop himself, Gamora simply staring at him. "He was using EMP rounds. I could tell by the hole it left in the ground when he shot at us. If it had hit you anywhere, your augmentations would have been fried, and you would probably be dead."

Gamora stared at the man before her. He had saved her life? She had no idea. She had been ready to yell and scream at him. Ready to break bones for risking his life when he was the most fragile on the entire team. But if he was right about the EMP rounds, then for the first time, he had actually saved her life. And not only that, but when he had done it, he had thrown his walkman as a distraction. His most prized possession, gone. Smashed on a rock when the pirate dodged it. Broken. He had traded the thing he cared for most in the world, along with nearly trading his own life, for her safety. Even after spending hours holding a blood-soaked rag to a gaping hole all the way through him, even after watching him literally die in her arms, twice, only to come back to her as she applied CPR, then die again at the hospital, evan after threatening to kill a dozen doctors who were telling her he couldn't be saved and who later did save him in order to save themselves, this fact, the fact that he had actually saved her life, was the fact that finally broke what tiny bit of control she liked to think she still had.

Just like that, she was crying again, sobbing hard as she pressed her face into his chest, arms around his neck as though she was afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold on tight enough. She felt his hand begin to run over the back of her head comfortingly and forced herself to stop. Why was she letting him comfort her? He was the one who was wounded and wouldn't be out of bed for a further four weeks, assuming his heart didn't stop again in that time. She pulled back, staring up at him to see him smiling.

"I'm alright now," he smiled. "I'm still here, thanks to you."

She nodded before holding up the broken pieces of his walkman.

"It broke when you threw it," she said. "I'm so sorry. If I had been more careful, you wouldn't have-"

"Forget it," he smiled. "You're alive. You're safe. That's all that matters. I couldn't live with myself if I lost you."

She stared at him, feeling tears begin to flow out of her eyes again. She was actually amazed that she had tears to cry after two weeks of it already. Then, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

Peter stared at her as she kissed him for a moment, before closing his eyes, kissing back. One of his hands moved to the back of her head, and the other to the small of her back, or at least, he hoped that's where. He couldn't actually feel either hand. After several seconds, Gamora pulled back, sniffing but smiling.

"I love you, Peter Quill," Gamora said. "Don't you dare try to leave me again, or I'll break every bone in your body just to get you healed and do it again."

Peter smiled and pulled her in for another kiss.

"I love you too, G'mora," Peter said as she pulled away. "And I'm not going anywhere. Especially for the next few weeks."

Gamora smiled, nodding.

"Good," Gamora said. "Then I don't have to worry about you running off with some other woman for a while."

"I would never," Peter promised. "Gamora I-"

She cut him off with a kiss then grinned.

"That was a joke, Peter Quill," Gamora said. You're too serious."

Peter smiled, kissing her one last time before yawning.

"Rest," Gamora said. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Peter nodded, closing his eyes and drifting off quickly. Once he had, Gamora stood, walking over to the door and opening it, the other three quickly backing away.

"We weren't doing anything," Rocket said instantly. "You can't prove it."

"Relax," Gamora smirked. "Listen, I need you to get this fixed."

She held out Peter's walkman.

"It's busted," Rocket said. "It's beyond repair. At most, I might be able to save the tapes."

"Then you'll have to find a new one," Gamora said.

"Why?" Rocket asked.

"I want to surprise him with it," Gamora said. "As a present when he finally gets out of the hospital."

Rocket grinned at her, shaking his head then taking the walkman and walking off, Groot following. Gamora and Drax returned to the room, retaking their seats and Gamora sighed, resting her head on Peter's chest, slipping her hand into his and drifting off to the sound of his heart beating. She had worked hard to keep it that way. Now, she found it oddly relaxing, and comforting. Before long, she was also asleep.

THE END

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